


I Know a Place

by darthswift13



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Underage Drinking, brief mention of substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthswift13/pseuds/darthswift13
Summary: They’re 17, about to be separated by an ocean. They make a pact: No matter what, on Rey’s 18th birthday, they will meet at Point Zéro, in Paris.They never do.Now, years later, completely by chance, they find each other right on that spot & decide to spend the day together.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 20
Kudos: 176
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection





	I Know a Place

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on [this prompt](https://twitter.com/galacticidiots/status/1271807301322788867?s=20) by the brilliant Fran and the cover for this fic was made by the amazing [Lena! <3](http://twitter.com/bensoloswhore)

**Prologue**

“What does this mean for us?” Ben asks quietly. 

They’re sitting side-by-side on the swing set at their favorite park, bathed in the pink and gold glow of the sunset.

Rey digs the toe of one of her Converse sneakers into the ground. 

“What do you mean?” she asks, not meeting his eyes.

“You’re going back to England tomorrow. What does that mean for us, Rey?”

They’d been avoiding the conversation until the last possible moment, but now they can’t ignore the painful reality any longer: they’re about to be separated by an ocean, starting new lives at different universities.

“I don’t know,” Rey says softly, feeling tears prickle in her eyes, the unsaid words hanging heavy on her tongue: _I love you, I love you, I love you and I wish more than anything that I could stay._

They sit there in silence for a long moment. The crickets sing loudly in the early summer air and the swings creak slightly. 

After a while, Rey wordlessly stands up and walks over to Ben’s swing, sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. And she finally lets herself cry in earnest. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her close, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

When she has worn herself out, Rey lifts her head up, sniffling slightly. Ben wipes away her tears, his chin quivering as he fights back tears of his own, and their foreheads meet.

“You know how we always used to talk about going to Paris together?” she asks, tracing patterns on his face with her fingertips. He closes his eyes and leans into her touch, nodding, a smile tugging at his lips despite his quivering lower lip. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll meet me at Point Zéro in Paris on my eighteenth birthday.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, opening his eyes, which are brimmed with both adoration and sorrow. 

“ _Promise me_ , Ben,” she says fiercely, taking his face in her hands.

“I promise, Rey,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers and then pulling away, “I promise.”

And they both let themselves cry as they kiss each other deeply, holding each other tight, never wanting to let go. 

Because tomorrow means Rey flies back to England, with no real home to return to. She managed to get a scholarship to a boarding school in the U.S. in a desperate attempt to escape yet another awful foster care placement. And tomorrow Ben will pack up his dorm and go back home for the first time since he was first sent to boarding school, forced to face the parents who rejected him and sent him away in the first place. 

Tomorrow, they’ll be alone again.

**Four Months Later — October 16th, Rey’s 18th Birthday.**

She has the money for the train saved up. It would only take a little over two hours to get there. She could go. It would be easy. And she would see him, and she could tell him the three words she was afraid to say four months ago, tell him that she sees him everywhere and everything reminds her of him, that she’d tried dating other people but no one compares to him. To tell him that if he wanted to, they could do long distance, or she’d try to transfer to a school in the U.S. or _something,_ just that they would find a way to make it work somehow. Because she loves him, she loves him, _she loves him_. 

But what if she gets there and he’s not there? It would feel like her parents abandoning her all over again. It would remind her that she’s not loveable, not worth staying for, certainly not worth crossing oceans for. And she doesn’t think she would survive that.

She sits in the train station from the time the first train leaves all the way until the last train for Paris leaves for the night. And then she goes back to her flat and cries herself to sleep. Again.

***

He’d been saving up the money for the plane ever since the morning she flew back to England, taking his heart with her.

He’d been refreshing different websites looking at different flight options all summer long and into the fall, saving up every penny from his part-time job.

The day before her birthday, he considers buying a last minute red eye flight, but he doesn’t. Because what if he crosses the ocean and she’s not there waiting for him? What if she didn’t really mean it? It’s the kind of romantic thing high schoolers would say to each other, but it’s not realistic. Who can just drop everything and go to Paris? And he would, for her. If he knew she would be waiting for him. If he thought he was the kind of person worth waiting for. But she’s beautiful and strong and kind and smart and surely she’s found someone else by now. Someone who isn’t an ocean away. Someone who isn’t the kind of person who gets sent away by his parents. Someone deserving of being loved by someone like her. 

So he leaves the flights open on his computer, and he falls asleep alone in his dorm, his pillowcase absorbing his silent tears. 

**Three Years Later — July**

Ben graduates early with his English degree. He still writes poems about her, though he would never admit it. There have been other girls in the years since the ocean separated them, but none of them stole the air from his lungs and inspired endless poetic verses the way his first love did, with her arresting hazel eyes and her July sunshine smile. He’d long ago accepted their time had passed, but his poems told a different story. Maybe he still writes about her because he never got the chance to tell her he loved her. Maybe if he could tell her, he would finally be able to move on for good. 

Things are better with his parents these days. They regret sending him away now. They realize how much it hurt him, and they’ve been trying to repair their relationship, to make amends. And he’s been working through the hurt that being sent away caused him in therapy. His parents surprised him with a trip to Europe as a graduation gift, and he graciously accepted.

There is the tiniest, faintest part of himself that wonders if he will see her there. But Europe is big, and London is not on their itinerary. If she’s even still in London; he wouldn’t know. They haven’t spoken since their swing set promise all those years ago.

***

Paris is the first stop on their trip. His parents want to go to the catacombs, but Ben is claustrophobic, so he tells them to go ahead without him. He’s grateful for the chance to explore alone. 

He’s been to the Eiffel Tower already; it was their first stop. So he decides Notre-Dame should be the next tourist spot he visits. 

There’s a huge line to go inside the actual cathedral, and a huge crowd of people outside of it, too, snapping photos and selfies, all speaking different languages. 

He looks up at the magnificent building and pulls his phone out of his back pocket to snap a picture. But as he does this, someone bumps into him and he drops his phone. Ben grumbles to himself as he bends down to pick it up. He swears under his breath when he sees that his screen and camera lens are both cracked, but then he notices that his phone landed on a golden sunburst surrounded by the words _Point zéro des routes de France_ etched in a circle around it. And suddenly all the memories come swirling back: Rey. A summer evening. A promise. A kiss. The memory is so vivid he would swear he could smell the floral sweet scent of her perfume. 

He stands up, and that’s when he sees her.

She looks stunningly beautiful in a green sundress that brings out the flecks of green in her hazel eyes, her freckles more prominent from time spent in the summer sunshine, her chestnut hair falling in delicate waves to her shoulders. He blinks for a moment, certain he’s imagining things. He still sees her all the time — in dreams, in strangers’ faces. 

“Ben Solo? Is that — is that really you?”

So he’s _not_ just imagining things.

“Rey,” he says breathlessly, like he still can’t believe what’s happening. His face lights up into a smile when he says her name. 

And then she returns his smile, the smile he’s written a hundred poems about, and he’s never been more in love with her. 

“It’s been so long...” Rey starts to say, “How are — how are you? What brings you to Paris?”

“I took extra classes and graduated a year early, and this was my graduation present. I’m here with my parents today, and they wanted to go to the catacombs, but that’s not exactly my cup of tea, so I’m out exploring by myself today. What about you?”

“I’m doing a year abroad starting in September, but I’ve been here since late May taking summer classes,” Rey explains. “It’s really good to see you, Ben,” she says after a moment.

“It’s good to see you too, Rey.” _You have no idea how good it is to see you, sweetheart,_ he thinks to himself. 

“So, did you get your obligatory selfie with the Notre-Dame for your Instagram yet?” Rey asks teasingly.

“I’m not really one for selfies,” Ben tells her, “But I was about to take a picture of the cathedral when someone bumped into me and I dropped my phone and well...” he flips his phone over sheepishly and shows her the shattered camera lens.

Rey frowns. “Hmm, how about I take a picture of you with the cathedral on my phone and then I’ll send you the picture, okay? You can’t go to the Notre-Dame and _not_ take a picture, Benjamin,” she tuts with a playful smirk. “When in Paris, and all.”

If it were anyone else, he would say no. But it’s not just anyone. It’s Rey, and she’s smiling at him and teasingly calling him _Benjamin_ like she used to all those years ago, and he can’t say no to her.

“I suppose you’re right,” he says with a shrug, “When in Paris...”

“Precisely,” Rey says with a smirk, and _God,_ he forgot how cute her adorably posh accent is. 

Rey pulls her phone out of her purse and takes a few steps backward and Ben smiles, and his smile is actually genuine, a toothy grin that lights up his whole face and makes his eyes crinkle, because how can he _not_ smile when she’s looking at him?

Rey grins again as she looks at the photo she took.

“Very cute,” she tells him, walking forward to show him the picture. He doesn’t particularly like the photo and thinks his big grin is bordering on goofy, but she likes it, so that’s all that matters to him. 

A quizzical expression crosses Rey’s features.

“How are you going to go sight-seeing in Paris without a working phone camera, Benjamin?”

He shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

Rey scrunches up her features, looking upward, “Hmmm, but the thing is _I_ do have a working phone camera, and I’ve been here for over a month now so I know my way around, so um...if you wanted someone to show you around the city and take pictures for you...”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel obligated to do that if you don’t want to.”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“Benjamin. I am offering because I want to. Unless you don’t want to...”

“Of course I want to, sweetheart,” he answers too quickly. Her freckled cheeks flush pink when he calls her that. 

Rey smirks. “Good. Where do you want to go next?”

“Where do you suggest?” Ben asks.

“Hmmm, we could take the Métro to the Eiffel Tower, if you want?” 

“That sounds perfect,” he tells her, smiling. He doesn’t mention that he’s already been to the Eiffel Tower. 

Rey smiles back at him and it nearly stops his heart.

“Let’s go, then.”

***

As they walk along the bustling cobblestone streets surrounded by the ivory apartment buildings with their black wrought iron balconies, Ben finds that despite all the beauty surrounding him, his eyes remain glued to Rey. Because while Paris is beautiful, it’s nothing compared to her.

Rey must have noticed him staring, though, because she turns to him and says, “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just, um...just zoned out there for a moment.”

“Right...so, um, how long have you been in Paris?” she asks.

“We flew in yesterday. I’m still a bit jet lagged, but I’m trying to push through it.”

“Oh, we should stop at my favorite cafe and get you a café crème. It’s delicious, you’ll love it,” she informs him cheerfully. As if he needs convincing. As if he wouldn’t follow anywhere she asked.

***

The door to the cafe jingles to single their entrance. It’s small but bustling, with black and white tiled floors beneath them and a dozen or so little bistro tables, a French jazz singer crooning through the speakers.

There’s an awkward silence as they wait in line, which is broken when it’s their turn to order. Rey asks the cashier something in French that he doesn’t understand.

“Deux crèmes de café s'il vous plaît,” Rey says cheerfully, and _God,_ she’s even more adorable when she speaks French.

Rey pays the cashier, and Ben pulls out his wallet, “How much do I owe you for the coffee?”

Rey shakes her head, smiling.

“Oh, non, non, ce n'est pas un problème, c’est mon plaisir, monsieur,” she tells him, and he has no clue what that means, only that she makes him even more flustered when she speaks fucking _French._ He wonders how it’s even possible for someone to be this adorable. 

“Um...merci?” he says, recalling one of maybe five words he remembers from French class in high school. His pronunciation is horrible, almost exaggeratedly American. _Mare-see._

Rey smiles at him.

“We’ll work on your French,” she teases.

***

They sit down at one of the tables beside a large window, the afternoon sunshine bathing the marble tabletop in a golden glow. 

It feels surreal to be her, with her, now. She used to help him study for his French exams — she was in Advanced Placement French, whereas he was barely passing his Introduction to French course, and he never would’ve passed it without her help. But they always talked about going to Paris together. It served as motivation for him to study for his exams — _just think, once you learn these verb conjugations, we can go to Paris together, darling._

“How is the café crème?” she asks as she brings her red mug to her lips to take a sip of her coffee.

“How do you say ‘it’s delicious’, in French?”

Rey giggles.

  
“ _C’est délicieux_ _."_

“Right— I mean...oui. _C’est d_ _él_ _icieux,_ ” he attempts to say, butchering the pronunciation, and Rey giggles again.

“You’re very cute when you’re speaking terrible French,” she informs him, and he feels himself blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. “And even cuter when you blush,” Rey adds, raising eyebrows as she bites down on her lower lip.

“Anyway,” she continues, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand, “What have you been up to these last few years?”  
  


 _Missing you,_ he thinks to himself.

“Just finishing my English degree. Writing a lot of poems.”

“Yeah?” she asks, picking up her café crème. “About what?”

_You. Always you._

“Lots of things,” he says instead with a shrug, “And they must be somewhat decent because I got into grad school.”

Rey’s whole face lights up when he tells her this. “That’s amazing, Ben! Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he says softly before taking another sip of his drink. “What about you? How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, I’ve been alright. My engineering degree hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park, but I’ve managed to get decent marks — good enough to get into this study abroad program in Paris.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “Are things better between you and your parents, then? You said you’re here with them.”

“Yeah, things are better. Not perfect, but...better.”

“That’s great, Ben,” Rey says softly. “I’m happy for you. That things are improving, at least.”

  
  


*** 

**Four Years Previously**

***

Rey was used to staying in the dorms alone over the holiday breaks, save for the dorm parent. But one Thanksgiving break she noticed a light on in the boys’ dormitory. The dormitory that belonged to Ben Solo, the boy she’d been tutoring in French, the boy she had secretly been crushing on for months.

So she snuck over and knocked on his door, her arms overflowing with snacks from the vending machines, the strawberry wine that her roommate Kaydel Connix had gotten for her with her fake ID before break stowed away in her backpack. 

“Rey,” he said softly when he opened the door, his lips twitching into a smile. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home with your family?” 

“Shouldn’t you be home with your family, too?” Rey replied with a raised eyebrow. “Anyway. It sucks to be alone on Thanksgiving, so I brought you some snacks, and some wine. And I thought maybe we could watch a movie together or something — I brought my laptop in my backpack — um, if you want.”

“That sounds perfect,” he said with a smile, and he held her gaze for a long moment, and there was something soft and gentle and affectionate in his amber eyes that made her blush. 

***

“Um,” Ben said awkwardly once they were in his room, “I don’t really have any place to sit...” he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. 

“Hmmm,” Rey said to herself, glancing around his room, “I have an idea.” She picked up the pillows off his bed and set them on the floor, and then smiled triumphantly.

“That works,” Ben replied, “We can, um, put the wine in these coffee mugs,” he offered, picking up the mugs off his desk. 

“Perfect,” Rey chirped cheerfully, pulling the wine out of her backpack and filling up the mugs before setting her backpack on the floor. Ben sat down on one of the pillows and set the mugs down in front of him, and Rey retrieved her laptop from her backpack.

“Do you like _The Breakfast Club?_ ” she asked as she sat down beside him, clutching her wine-filled mug. “I just downloaded it.”

He smiled.

“That’s one of my favorite movies.”

Rey smiled back at him.

“Brilliant.”

***

Rey fidgeted with her hands nervously, an awkward tension hanging in the air and in the inches between them. She snuck glances at him occasionally, and he would smile at her, making her blush and turn back to the laptop screen.

About halfway through the movie she asked him why he wasn’t at home.

“My parents sent me away to this school a couple of years ago...I was getting into trouble at school a lot, acting out...I don’t do that anymore, but I think at the time it was a way of trying to get their attention. They both have very demanding jobs and it felt like they were too busy for me most of the time. Anyway, they don’t really call or visit, and they said they thought it was better if I stayed here over Thanksgiving.”

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” Rey said softly.

He shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not my first time spending a holiday alone.”

“Me either,” Rey admitted. “My parents would rather get high than take care of their kid, so they dumped me in foster care when I was five. I wasn’t really invited to my foster families’ holiday celebrations, so I would just sit in my room alone usually.”

“You’re not alone this time, though,” he pointed out.

  
A smile tugged at her lips.

“Neither are you, Ben,” she murmured. 

***

One and a half mugs of strawberry wine later and Rey had slowly inched closer to Ben, and at some point she ended up falling asleep with her head on his shoulder. 

He froze up at first at the shock of her being so close to him, taking his breath away, the floral scent of her shampoo flooding his senses, making him feel dizzy. But then she sighed contentedly, murmuring his name, and he wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back tightly. 

*******

**Present Day**

**  
*********

“Thanks,” he replies with a half-smile as he brings his coffee mug to his lips again, finishing up the last sip.

“Do you feel a bit more awake now?” Rey asks. 

“I do. Thank you. And I will have to get a café crème again sometime. It really is, um... _d_ _é_ _licieux._ ”

Rey giggles. “Your horrible French is terribly cute, Benjamin.”

And he blushes. Once again.

***

Ben isn’t sure what’s more beautiful: the sight of the Eiffel Tower during golden hour, it’s glimmering lights just beginning to flicker on, or the way Rey’s eyes light up as they approach.

“Gosh, isn’t it beautiful?” she marvels, “I see it everyday now, but it never gets old.” Her awe-filled eyes remain glued on the towering landmark ahead of them. Ben’s eyes remain glued to her.

They stopped at a market along the way and got a baguette and some fresh berries, along with a bottle of strawberry wine — for old time’s sake. And at some point along the way Rey had entwined her hand with Ben’s.

***

They find a spot on the grass in front of the tower, and Ben watches as Rey sets up their makeshift picnic, taking the bread and berries out of the paper bag and pouring the wine into the paper cups they bought.

Somewhere in the distance someone is playing “La Vie En Rose” by Edith Piaf, and Rey’s chestnut waves dance in the warm summer breeze.

  
He has already composed at least five poems about this moment in his head.

Rey picks up her cup of wine.

“To old friends and happy coincidences,” she says with a smile. He picks up his cup and taps it against hers.

“Cheers.”

Rey smiles at him before taking a sip of her wine, and then she sighs contentedly, gazing up at the Eiffel Tower again.

“Rey,” Ben says softly, reaching forward and resting his hand on top of hers.

Rey draws in a sharp breath and turns to face him again. 

“I missed you,” he tells her.

“I missed you, too,” she echoes.

After a long moment, Ben asks the question that’s been rattling in his brain for three years.

“Did you go to Point Zéro on your eighteenth birthday?”

“No,” she admits. “Did you?”

“No,” he replies, “But I should have. I just thought you might not be there, and that would’ve killed me.”

“That’s why I didn’t go, either,” she says quietly.

“I don’t want to lose you again, Rey,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch her cheek. She leans into his touch, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. “Because...because I love you, Rey.”

Rey sucks in a breath. The words are still there, dancing on her lips, just like that night on the swing set, but she can’t bring herself to say them. 

“Ben— ” she pulls away and darts her eyes to the ground. She knows the hurt in his eyes will break her heart even more than it’s already breaking, so she can’t bear to look at him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I just,” she sighs, “Nothing has changed, Ben.”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I still have a year left of university, and you just got into graduate school. There’s an ocean and 3,625 miles separating us.”

“I don’t care, Rey. We can find a way to make it work. We could— we could do long distance, or I could try to get into a school here.”

“You can’t speak French,” she points out.

“Well, I can learn.” 

She shakes her head. “I just don’t see how this could work, Ben.”

“I would cross a hundred oceans just for one moment with you, Rey.”

There are tears pooling in Rey’s eyes now, and her voice is quiet and distant when she speaks again.

“Don’t say things like that, Ben Solo, because then I might believe you,” she says, and her voice starts to crack as she turns away from him.

“You should believe me, because I mean it, Rey. I can’t lose you again. Please.”

A tear escapes from her eyes, and Ben reaches forward to wipe it away, but she pulls back, sniffling and wiping the tear away with the back of her hand.

  
“I, um, actually have a lot of studying to do, so I should go,” she says quietly.

“Rey, please,” Ben chokes out.

“It really was good to see you, but we can’t live in a fantasy, Ben. We have to go back to our real lives.”

“And why can’t we be together in our real lives?”

  
“Ben, please. I just... I just have to go,” she insists. “You can keep the wine and the food,” she mutters.

She turns and looks at him for one final moment. _I love you, I love you, I love you and I would cross a hundred oceans for you, too._

***

**JULY 15th**

***

One week later, Rey hears a _ping_ noise echoing from her phone, and sees a Facebook friend request and a message from Ben.

_Dear Rey,_

_I hope you know that I won’t give up on you so easily. I know you, and I know why you’re scared. I know you’re afraid of being abandoned again because your parents left you. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere no matter how much you try to push me away. Because I love you. And I’m not giving up on you._

_Anyway, I downloaded Duolingo and signed up for a French class next semester._

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

She leaves it on read. 

And then she sees another message from Kaydel.

**Kaydel** **_:_ ** _Hey girl, I still have the number for that therapist if you’re still interested. xoxo, Kay._

 **Rey** : _That would be helpful, actually. Thanks._

*******

**JULY 22nd**

*******

_Salut ch_ _é_ _rie,_

_Comment ça va? (That means how are you, right?)_

_I hope you’re doing well. I just wanted to remind you that I love you. And I’d still cross a hundred oceans for you._

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

*******

**AUGUST 29th**

*******

_Dear Rey,_

_  
__I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to message you again. I’ve been busy getting ready for grad school and studying hard for my French class. I learned how to say something new:_ _tu es très belle et je t'aime beaucoup. That means you are very beautiful and I love you very much, I think. Maybe. Feel free to correct my grammar if I messed it up._

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

*******

**SEPTEMBER 6th**

*******

_Chère Rey,_

_Today is the first day of your semester, right? Bonne chance,_ _ch_ _é_ _rie. (I think that means ‘good luck, sweetheart.’ But again, you can correct my grammar. You were always a very good French tutor.)_

_You’re so brilliant and I know you will do an amazing job this semester._

_Grad school is really tough so far, but I’m managing. I’ve been writing a lot of poems, though. (They’re all about you.)_

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

*******

**OCTOBER 31st**

**  
*********

_Chère Rey,_

_Happy Halloween. I just got back from a Halloween party and I’m a little bit tipsy but I just wanted to say that I love you and I think about you everyday. Did you go to a Halloween party this year? I went as Kylo Ren from Galaxy Wars. I wish you were there to be my Kira._

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

_***_

**_NOVEMBER 26th_ **

_***_

_Chère Rey,_

_Happy Thanksgiving, mon amour. I’ll never forget the Thanksgiving we spent together in my dorm back in high school. That was the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had._

_I’m drinking strawberry wine and thinking about you._

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

_Ben_

_***_

**_DECEMBER 15th_ **

_***_

_Chère Rey,_

_Merry Christmas. It’s been snowing a lot here. (Il neige beaucoup.) Does it ever snow in Paris?_

_I miss you a lot. Finals have been very hectic. Do you have a lot of finals?_

_Je t’aime pour toujours,_

  
  


_Ben_

*******

**DECEMBER 20th**

*******

Rey is grateful when she sees Leia has accepted her Facebook friend request. She sends her a message.

_Hello Ms. Organa,_

_This is Rey. Ben and I used to date in high school, I don’t know if you remember. Anyway, we reconnected in Paris this summer and he’s been messaging me a lot and I wanted to come visit him for Christmas. Can you please send me his address? And please don’t tell him, I want it to be a surprise. I hope this doesn’t come across as creepy or anything. It’s just that when I tell him I love him, I want it to be in person._

_-Rey_

_  
__Ben lives at 13 Cornelia Street, Manhattan, New York. I promise not to tell him. Even though I really want to. I hope you can come visit Han and I while you’re in town, too. We’d love to see you. -Leia_

_***_

**DECEMBER 23rd**

***

It’s snowing in New York, and Rey shivers in her purple peacoat when she rings the doorbell to Ben’s apartment.

She waits with bated breath, and it feels like a century has passed when he finally opens the door. 

There’s a mixture of shock and delight and confusion on his handsome face. Rey smiles at him.

“Hi,” she says softly, her breath visible in the cold night air.

“Rey,” he murmurs, “You’re — you’re here — how did you — ?”

“Your mum gave me your address,” she explains. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just that, when I tell you that I love you too, that I’ve loved you ever since we were teenagers, I didn’t want it to be over Facebook messenger — because I love you so much, Ben, and I would cross a hundred oceans for you in a heartbeat.”

“Rey,” Ben says quietly, “I love you, too, you know how much I love you, but — but what about everything you said last summer? You still have a semester left of school.”

“Yes.”

“And I just started grad school,” he adds.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“And we’re still living 3,625 miles away from each other,” he points out. 

“That’s true. But Ben, I don’t care, because I _love_ you, and I just know we’ll find a way to make it work somehow. So please just shut up and kiss me, Benjamin.”

She can see tears glimmering in his eyes, but he’s smiling. And then his lips are on hers, snow gently falling around them as he pulls her in closer, and she’s never been more sure that he’s worth crossing oceans for. And for the first time, she’s starting to believe that maybe she’s worth crossing oceans for, too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Twitter!](http://twitter.com/darthswift13) :)


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